Puppet Strings
by The Seventh Circle
Summary: An extremely dark fic concerning an insomniac Korra, and a sadistic Amon. Driven insane with nightmares, Korra flees her safe island, only to be captured by Equalists.
1. A Voice in the Night

Puppet Strings

_Prologue_

The rat squealed in pain as she plucked at the veins and muscles that lay beneath, forcing it to stand and dance at her command as she remained curled in the corner. Hair sagging into her eyes, she smiled- her teeth rotting.

The woman cried out for help, but no one heard her scream. To silence her throat, he reached out a hand and wriggled his fingers wickedly, increasing the devastating strength of his bend. It prevailed, and she went silent, her trachea collapsing under an unseen force. Advancing upon her, his grip increased on her heart, squeezing it until he felt the satisfying burst. Gurgling all at once, blood oozed out of her mouth as her eyes glazed over. Her body went completely limp, he felt her spirit leave her and he smirked- his malevolent, dark blue eyes sparkling with sadism.

The wolves whimpered in fear- he simply opened his eyes wider, feeling a strong flow of power electrify through his mind, he hadn't needed his arms or legs to do what he was so naturally great at. Their tails went between their legs, he saw the pain trickle into their faces, placid snarls desperately, dumbly calling for an end to the torment.

He felt his father's approving eyes on his back, but he also noted his little brother shaking his head in sadness. There was nothing that surged through his body- no satisfaction, no despair, and no regret. There was nothing while he watched the twitching paws of his puppets, and his eyes began to darken into ink, a shell of their former sparkling blue- he frowned deeply.

_A Voice in the Night_

Breathing slowly, she slept. Inhale, exhale, and so forth- the whispers of the wind and the window lost in the intoxication of slumber.

Deep chocolate hair smoothly coating a comfortable pillow as her tanned, leathery skin bristled and sank with the twitch of her placated brain; her eyelids hid the sparkle of her bright, blue eyes.

This euphoria of dreams was not to be continued.

The murmuring of the air soon turned to screams and shouts, wailing upon wailing of fear and dread. All of it sounding from her splitting lips.

It happened all too quickly.

She had just been laying and resting, an innocent lamb finally being dragged to slaughter as they crashed in through the open panes and crushed in through the ceiling. Not even a thought was given to Tenzin, Pema, or any of the children, only the reality of the masked intruders.

Their bright red and green eyes spoke of demonic influence, their uniforms so terrifyingly militaristic and threatening, cloaking them into shadow and mystery as they snatched onto her arms.

Breathing in and blowing out, her lids betrayed the intensity of her nightmare.

They shook and swam beneath the heavy lashes, her groans of helplessness silently whisked out from the deep caverns of her throat.

Hyperbolized in the dream, she was really wrenching her limbs out of enemy hands, desperately trying to avoid capture, or worse. Finally, the monsters struck out at her nerves, bruising and defiling her skin until she was just a broken shell.

Unsheathing brutish rope, they tied her up and pulled to excruciating lengths, her flesh being squeezed as her bones seemed to pop out of their comfortable sockets.

The reality of their hits began to sink in. No fire burned in her belly, no earth held her steady, and certainly no water eased her pain. Numbing apathy was all she felt, until a porcelain face emerged from the shadows of the destroyed room.

His hand extended grotesquely, the masked claw reaching out to rob her of dignity, of identity until she was just as faceless and demented as him. Before his icy fingers could freeze her sweating skin, she noticed the flicker of sadism glimmer in his ink-stained eyes.

Her own snapped open.

In a flash, she sat up and peered around frantically. Kicking the sheets, flailing her arms, his emotionless guise was all she could see, until his soulless eyes sank bank into normalcy.

The simple ornaments were still intact, a mild breeze rustled the plain curtains.

Extending and opening her hand she coerced a living flame into the palm, the current of electricity shifting through her magical muscles to produce a ball of ember. As she kept her eyes locked with the wad of fire, it began to sway.

It was then she realized how soaked she was.

The pools and streams of sweat dripped casually from her head and onto the little heartbeat still drumming on her fingers.

Relief flooded her veins, it shook her down to the core and back up again until it felt like she might vomit. To counter it, she shut her eyes firmly, stifling the gut wrenching feeling of fear and reprieve back down into the esophagus.

Finally, she closed the shaking fingers that carried small life, expunging it. It only proved to be a reminder.

Quelling her trembling, she wrapped her arms protectively around her, and peered up at a glorious full moon that hung directly in the middle of her window pane, hoping that the Spirits could hear her silent prayer for uneventful sleep.

Unfortunately, her nightmare had ruined any chance for a return to dozing, so she decided to get up and wipe the salty droplets off her goose-bumped body. Taking a glance at her covers, she grimaced when they were spoiled as well.

_That's going to need a wash…_she thought grumpily.

The day was getting off to a bad start.

To make matters worse was the stress of a certain ponytailed politician who was trying to coerce her into fighting that which haunted her most. Going to bed that night, she had already been thinking she had bit off more than she could chew coming to Republic City.

No fan base or cheers greeted her, only a whole set of problems that weren't going to be solved any time soon, but still gave her constant trouble, Tarrlok and Lin included.

It was certainly the last time she would ever go to bed with work on the mind.

Her feet padded softly against the thin, wood floors, making sure not to wake any of the others. Spirits knew she would never hear the end of it if Tenzin stumbled upon her in this weakened state of insomnia and perspiration.

So, she sauntered tiredly down the hallways, her bare feet shuffling against the eerily cold floor. The light of a bright, night sky seeped in through the cracks of glass, the chill of early hours lashed a new set of spine-shivering currents beneath her weary flesh.

The atmosphere surely wasn't helping anything.

Reaching a panel, she looked both ways, as if Equalists or the hyper children of her air bending tutor would catch her in the act, sounding some sort of alarm. Cautiously, after giving another hard stare left and right, she dug her nails into the edge and pulled.

It creaked and groaned, causing her to shut her eyes and grind her teeth in embarrassment and regret, until it finally hit the niche at the end, and she sprinted quickly in, puffing out her cheeks.

Safety was realized when not a sound responded to the perpetually loud opening of the old door, and she wriggled her toes in the fur carpet of the lavatory, heaving a sigh.

Already panting like Naga, she shut the thing closed, giving it no chance of humiliating her again, and turned to the pan of water. Snatching a towel, she wiped off her neck and face, her nose curling at the smell already, to which she let out an exasperated, teenage grunt of frustration.

Then, flinging the thing into the bowl, she rinsed it and began the process again. Slowly, her eyes traced from the splashing of her wringing hands to the mirror that hanged just above, hoping her appearance wasn't too crazed or disheveled.

A pair of ink-stained eyes bored into hers, a bleached mask with a red dot on the forehead replaced her reflection, snuffing it out.


	2. Duel

"I," Korra sputtered, the microphone ringing in an intense high pitch. "Challenge you to a duel, Amon."

The immediate response of the small cluster of stiffly dressed writers was intimate, their whispers barely audible but anxious. The flash of their cameras obscured her vision, she squinted, but remained strong. Pounding a clenched hand down in a fist on the podium, the reporters gave one another worried glances. Wires connected to major cables which in turn rang her words through the city over all frequencies, but there was only one person she cared about.

Shifting her weary blue eyes this way and that, she sucked in a breath and spoke anew.

"Midnight at Avatar Aang Memorial Island. No chi blockers, no Equalists," she hissed, her manner straightening into defiance the more she thought about her frustration. "Just you and me, Amon- _if_ you're man enough to face me."

Quickly turning on her boot, she sped away from the journalist group, Tarrlok already hot on her heels.

"Uh…" came the blasting of the Lin's voice, trying to follow up with a pathetic Q and A.

Korra never heard anything more from the chief, she was already wrapping and re-wrapping her arm sleeves, adjusting her tunic, brushing off her baggy, seal skin pants as she walked. Cracking her neck to the side and punching a fist into another extended hand, she breathed calmly in and out.

The nightmare had to end.

Two weeks of terror, finally, was concluding. Never was she to run away or cower from anything, this time was no different. After all, the guy was too afraid to show his own face, why should she stoop to his level?

The dark streaks under her dulling sapphires were a testament to her desperation. Every night it repeated, again and again like the cycles of the avatar. They crashed through the window, or maybe the roof, or silently snuck in and held her down as he carried out the deed.

Always emerging from the thickness of cowardly gloom, his white, expressionless but altogether terrifying mask hung away from the body until a set of fingers extended to her forehead.

The worst part, the robbing of her identity…she woke up. As if it had already been done, signed, delivered, and now she would have to face being ultimately alone in the world.

Each time, though, her own palm excreted a spark, the pebbles in her room still danced to her touch, and the sweat off her stretched skin flicked off and condensed with a wag of a hand. Control had remained hers, but surely she was losing it.

Tethers of her former self, she had a loosening grip on her mind. Whispers no one else heard, dreams and violent reveries no one else saw- she was truly isolated in the dark.

_It ends tonight,_ she reminded herself as she almost sprinted to the docks, ready to bash the freak's head in.

"Avatar Korra," an arrogant, but softened voice called out.

Coming to a reluctant halt, she rolled her eyes, but turned around with a strong hand clutching her hip.

"Make it quick, Tarrlok," she ordered, shifting her weight. "I have a city to save, and a lunatic to beat. Not to mention a skinny, pretty boy to humiliate later."

Raising an unimpressed brow, he smirked at her adolescence.

"I will not deter you, then," he calmly stated, his sickly smooth vibrato made her skin quiver. "Obviously you have a busy life."

Puffing her chest out and crushing her lips into an angry line, she gave him a good glare.

"Spit it out already."

His perfectly annoying teeth shining through in victory he nodded with false humility, but his face went stoic as he conjured up the words flicking through his mind.

"This isn't a wise idea, avatar."

Blinking a couple times, she was slightly surprised by his caution. He was certainly the last person to try and talk her out of it. It was him, after all, that was so keen on getting her to be ruthless to the Equalists in the first place.

Tightening her arms over her chest, she peered away, too embarrassed to explain to him the necessity of the duel, but he tried again, anyway.

"After monitoring Amon for months, I can assure you he won't play fair," he hypothesized. "This could very well be the end for you, Korra. No one, not even I, wants to see that happen."

Snapping her head, and stare, back to him, she studied his seemingly honest face. Twinkling, big blue eyes and a fatherly smile would fool just about anyone, but not her. Playing his game, she relaxed her tense stance and gave him a quirky smile in return.

"Thanks for the advice, councilman," she sniped sarcastically, already noting the way his face fell. "But there is nothing you can say to change my mind."

On that note, she turned away and began her fast paced walk again. But, the water bender's footsteps still sounded behind her, and she saw out of the corner of her eye his closing-in form. Frustrated, she stamped the ground, which reacted immediately to her force, and lifted into a miniature cliff.

This in turn caused the polished man to trip. Korra heard his exasperated grunt as he fell, the puff of smoke crackling in her ears like candy, and she beamed a grin, holding it there as she whistled into her index finger and thumb.

"Naga!" she called, the pattering of paws already shaking the ground.

The massive but loveable beast bounded her way, knocking over a couple stands as she went. Quickly, before Tarrlok could pitch another useless sale, she wrapped her arms around the polar bear dog's furry neck and swung onto the saddle.

Snapping the leather straps in her hands, she directed her closest friend toward a destination most unsettling, the sun already setting in the sky.

"Korra, please! Don't do this," came the strained voice of Tenzin, his arms stretched out diplomatically.

Peering at her caretaker in the dim light, she softened her hardened stare, but it was too late, even for Tenzin, to alter the fate already being woven.

"Sorry, Tenzin, but I have to do this," she replied gently, placing a graceful hand on his orange-clothed shoulder. "This has to end."

"Have you given any thought to what might happen?" he argued back, his pale eyes full of worry. "Korra, he could…"

"I know!" she snapped, a little harsher than she would have liked, then sighing. "I know. But, you need to understand, this is what needs to happen."

Groaning like a disgruntled parent, he shut his eyes for a moment, perhaps hoping when he opened them, she'd be a different person. But, the stubborn teen wasn't changing any time soon, so he nodded stiffly, concreting a gaze that was on the brink of bursting into tears.

"Come on, Tenzin," she smiled, noting the way he clammed up. "I'll be fine."

Unfortunately, he saw through her optimism- she was just as frightened as he was. Not letting his stare get the better of her, she withdrew, leaping into the small boat below. They all watched as she went, even Tarrlok looked concerned for a brief moment, and she gave them a brave nod and a cocky beam before exploding from the docks, her arms guiding the water below.

Tarrlok sauntered slowly up to the middle-aged air bender, who looked over the edge of the dock sadly, and placed his tanned, leathery hands behind his back.

"Korra seems to know what she's doing," the politico council member comforted- a rare sight from the rival. "Maybe things will really be over after tonight."

Giving a quick glance to his adversary, Tenzin sighed, his pale features growing fainter as he thought of what might happen in just a few short hours.

"After tonight, it may be more than the Equalist movement that's brought to an end."

Landing softly on the shortened grass, Korra began running up to the massive statue of her predecessor. Her feet clicked onto the marble, still racing as she sought the best position. Finding a suitable spot above the main tunnel, where the sight of large, full moon shone, she crouched into the shadows, trying to beat the master at his own game- ambush.

Sooner or later, the coward would have to show his face.

_3 Hours Later_

Sitting in a lazy cross-legged position, her head smashed into her palm, her bored fingers fiddled with the blades of grass next to her soles. The clock rang loudly twelve times alerting everyone to the witching hour.

No one had shown up- not even a little old lady, a promiscuous couple, not even Tenzin, trying to warn her out of it again. She had been waiting for hours, staring at the city, at the island, at her shoes, to which she picked out an impressive number of pebbles when her boredom finally caught up with her.

Yet, she wasn't really all that angry. True, it was frustrating doing nothing for a long period of time, but this did mean she wasn't going to fight Amon. Of course she wanted to end the whole charade between the two of them tonight, but apparently he was just as scared of her as she was of him.

_Just like training a polar bear dog,_ she joked to herself, smirking as she yanked a couple more bundles of dirt out.

After the last chime of bells, she stretched her back and arms, and began to sit up, ready to finally leave.

"Guess you're a no show, Amon," she muttered to the ground as she pushed off.

Sauntering over the edge of the tunnel, she began her way back to the boat.

As she crossed over the shadows of the walls, a noise, a rock being kicked perhaps, snagged the attention of her senses. Whisking her curiosity to her left, peering down the immense cavern beside her, she called out:

"Hello? Anyone there?"

No one responded for a brief hesitation, until another pesky shuffling echoed her way.

Of course, that really wasn't what she was concerned with at the time for a cluster of ropes began racing her way, and found her surprised ankles, yanking her footing out from under her. Crying out in shock, she tried her luck with girlish instinct and dug her nails into the stone as she was pulled into shadow.

But, like most times, it failed, and she was shanghaied away. Finally realizing she could bend as her body was dragged quickly, she kicked out a blast of flame, disintegrating the binds that tied her.

What revealed itself was an infestation of Equalists, their bodies popping out in the minimal light like insects beneath floorboards. Grinding her teeth away, she swallowed her increasing fear and began to do whatever she could to avoid capture.

The ornate stone below cracked and curved to the force of her strong legs as her arms were busy with illuminating dangerous light from her fingertips in graceful punches. Unfortunately, the brave fight was lost when the enemy overwhelmed her, their gloved nails pierced her skin but went further into the muscle.

Losing the connection to nature was a feeling of numbed nerves, and of immense loneliness. It was if her most treasured friend had died and was forgotten, leaving her heart broken and her body a hollow shell of a person.

What made matters worse was the fact they were wrapping her in rope and pulling her down like a wild animal, just as it was in her worst nightmares.

_No, he wouldn't…he can't…_she whispered in her mind as they tugged painfully on her limbs in two directions, her already withered knees dropped to the shattered ground, cutting into her flesh.

But he did.

The personification of her dream world, Amon crept out from the darkness, coming closer, his hand already reaching out to cremate her beloved soul mate- her bending, whisking the ashes into the breeze, to never be seen again.

She looked away, her head tilted downward as she forced her eyes closed in despair. He would not see her cry.

It was all wrong, though. His frozen talons did not simply plunge into the middle of her forehead, but they gently traced her cheek, swirling in circles until it reached her chin, to which they gripped in a vice. Squeezing her face, he pulled up with a flick of his strong wrist.

For some reason, as if by another force, her lids were also wrenched open, forced to peer into the face of Amon, the faceless monster.

"I have received your invitation, young avatar," his ghastly low voice announced.

Shivers upon shakes trickled up and down her spine as her throat collapsed in terror, but her defiance maintained in her glare, refusing to let him truly know how much she shrank in his presence.

"Our showdown, while inevitable, is premature. Although it would be the simplest thing for me to take your bending away right now," he threatened, and she noted the way his stained pupils dilated in a sick rush of power. "I won't."

Apparently, this came as an intriguing surprise to the mob, for some shifted in puzzlement to his speech. For a split second, he peered up, his arrogance and petrifying command causing the unwise Equalists to straighten up and become silent observers again.

"You'd only become a martyr," he explained, his piercing gaze flicking back to her, and only her. "Every bender of every nation would rally behind your untimely demise."

A glimmer of pride swelled in her chest as she remembered the proud tribes, but then fleeted back into anxiety by the wrathfulness of his stare, any chance of hope crushed beneath the sole of his militaristic boot.

"But, I assure you," he informed mysteriously, catching the full concentration of her person. "I do have a plan, and I'm saving you for last. Then, you'll get your duel, and I will destroy you."

Snatching his hand away from her face dramatically, his presence still clogged her pores and air passages, as if he never left. Her face remained down, for now surely he was going to do something horrific, it couldn't be all talk and no play for the maniac.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he continued, and she could hear the smirk that cracked beneath the mask. "Sweet dreams."

Flinging her eyes upward, they widened into a large circle of blue, searching for the answer in his blobbed glance. A sparkle of advantage obscurely flashed, and that was all.

_Does he…?_

Her world went black.


	3. Visions in Sleep

**Warning: Gore/ Horror**

**P.S. Review.**

In streams of memory, Korra witnessed a variety of images, alien and strange. Children huddled around a campfire in a shadowy wood, almost surreal in the cliché stature of the trees as their withered branches stretched to encompass the group.

She sat a few yards behind them, her outlined apparitional form unable to feel the warmth of the licking flames, even though her face basked in its glow.

Unaware of what to do or say, she wondered if she should interact with the strangers at all. Their backs remained turned just enough to block their faces. But, there was a nagging feeling of familiarity tugging at the back of her brain.

At some point, she had seen these adolescents- perhaps they had been at a rally, or maybe they were in the audience at one of her pro-bending matches. Whatever the reason, it could not be denied that their paths had crossed.

As she squinted harder, the wheels churning in her head, they all laughed heartedly. The tallish boy had apparently said something funny. A girl with glossy, dark brown hair leaned back gracefully, her decorated arms remained strictly on the log she sat upon.

A kid with a burgundy headband and short obsidian hair was nearly touching the ground he was bent over so much, his shoulders shaking furiously with glee.

Lastly, the runt of the assemblage was stomping her bare feet, clenching and unclenching her stubby hands while her cropped, jet black hair hardly moved an inch to the exaggeration of her actions.

The crowd of teenagers reminded her fondly of her own friends and their many happy times. It also brought up memories of those she was not on good terms with, those she feared, hated even, for Amon never left her thoughts, even in her hallucinations.

The scene flinched, corrupted by the influx of her recollections, and the forest grew much more terrifying, escalating quickly into shadow. The stoic nature that she had gotten used to increased in pace and plot, the faces of the teenagers flashed before her eyes, some images smiling and warm, others of stretched faces howling in screams of terror.

It returned to a still scene for a split second, they now hugged each another, quivering.

It wasn't the boy from before that was causing the fright to spark in the air, but a woman. Old, innocent she had surprised the children. Flashes of clarity, this seemingly harmless elder broke into smiles. So skeleton-like, Korra felt her body shudder, even though she knew she was far from danger. Back and forth the face of the intruder shifted from kind to manically evil, her hands raised high above her head as black nails squeezed out from their usual beds into monstrosity.

She giggled with a witch-like bark of laughter, her canines sharpened as her muscles and surprisingly lucid arms shifted into water bending forms. But, it wasn't any style that Korra knew of. From the distance she was at, she cocked her imaginary head to the side and studied.

The motions the woman implemented were obscure. Instead of relying on fluidity of her shoulders, the bending of her elbows and swaying of her body like the waves, her fingers snapped this way and that in a deformed sort of cracking.

It looked painful to her, the way this bender manipulated the element, instead of working n conjunction with it. She controlled and defiled an art with her body language, but there was a wretched command she dictated that was unquestionable.

Before Korra could figure out the mystery, the witch was brought to her knees, the girl that was so majestic, her smooth hair perfect in every which way still, was imitating the elder, turning the power of whatever it was on the master.

Yet, a tear dripped in guilt from the chin of this girl, she wasn't happy about what she was doing.

The world phased again, this time a court room. Lifted in the air, the bodies of old titans were demented into cruel shapes, a barking-mad, crazed man clearly responsible for the pain, his arms handcuffed in front of his stomach- a criminal.

What intrigued, and horrified, her were his eyes. They were opened so wide, she could see every vein in the whites as they pulsated. It simply wasn't natural.

She was in the stands, seated as she observed the pained faces of the esteemed-looking entourage. As she glanced at all the forms dangled in the air, she noticed some familiar robes- air bending colors.

Aang was one of the victims.

Jumping up from her position, she took no hesitation as she ran over to help him. Her hand reached out to tug him back to the Earth, but as she got close enough, her knuckles began to throb.

So much so that she thought her hand was broken, it ached and every pore seemed to explode, and as she brought it up to her face to look at, spider-web veins ran a foul all over it. They were thick, blue, and slowly blobbing outward like corrupted paints.

The experience of pain began to spike her dream world, tearing her back into reality. The rocks that held the building together came tumbling down as she dived away from their gravitational disaster.

The last face she saw was Aang's, bulged and twisted- the most powerful Avatar ever, it seemed, was falling victim to the horror of an obscure enemy.

At this time, her own nightmares began to cloud out the visions, returning her to her bedroom, asleep. Watching from afar, like a ghost, she gazed on as the Equalists stormed in, this time not even touching her peaceful form.

Instead, Amon came into full view, abandoning the phantasmal act. Pondering what he could possibly have to gain from relinquishing his most successful go-to move, she soon realized he wasn't just invading her space, threatening her, but he signaled for others to join.

These mangled figures staggered in, one by one. Their clothes betraying their identities, she witnessed as Tenzin and his children were pushed to their knees before the masked monster.

"No!" she screamed, her banshee wail piercing the boundaries of the universe, but no one even reacted to her shrieks, Amon continued and before she could look away, he grabbed her air bending tutor's neck and jabbed his thumb into the middle of the beaten man's forehead.

Shaking, Tenzin fell with a weighted thud as his children began squirming to reach out and help their precious father, only to be smacked by the Equalist thugs and subjected to Amon's continuing cruelty. Crying out, Korra screamed, yelled, smacked the walls, clawed and punched anything she could, but she was helpless- her body kept dozing on quietly.

What sickened her most was the slight smile that graced her lips as she slumbered, right as Meelo, the youngest bender, hit his head upon the hard wooden floor, his slight shoulders shivering with fright and pain.

They all convulsed below the feet of the enemies, but the show was far from over.

Numb to any feeling now, Korra simply widened her eyes when Pema was dragged in, her stomach still extended to reveal a last hope for balance.

Intolerable, they strapped her down, in front of her family and tore her clothes away.

They committed something unmentionable, she dared not look away as the small child was yanked from its womb, blood pouring down from the walls, some of the disgusting wretches actually laughed at the woman's screams and cries for help, defiling her name with swears and mockery while her husband remained helpless on the floor with his other children- forced to watch as his next child was killed.

Amon had snapped the infant's neck and discarded it away.

From pure hatred and tragedy, Pema's usual bright eyed manner dimmed into death, and Korra still slept comfortably amidst the sheets, not a flinch on her smooth face.

It was then, that her brain released her.

She did not waste the chance as her eyes wrenched open, a figure ran toward her, a brilliant light radiating from behind it.

"Aang?" she questioned hoarsely, her sight sideways.

Perhaps he had come to judge her, to strip her of her title and power, clearly she did not deserve it- she could not even protect those most precious to her. How could she save a city?

The illusion of the nightmare stuck to her senses, truly for a moment, she believed she remained in the horrible world, and she burst into tears.

"Korra!" Tenzin cried, quickly sinking to the ground with her.

Realizing that it was her caretaker, she cried harder, partially with relief, but with horror, too.

"Korra," he said again, holding onto her shoulders. "Look at me. Did...did he take your bending?"

Sniffling, she ran her hand under her nose, wiping the mix of mucus and tears away. The thought that she may have already been stripped of her power had evaded her, all she could think of were the horrifying images still lodged in her subconscious.

"I-I don't think so," she admitted, doing what she had already done numerous times over the past fortnight, she opened her hand, and compelled a flame to erupt.

"Thank the Spirits..." he muttered, his queasy features sinking back to their usual refined ways.

"I was so scared, Tenzin," she gurgled out, glistening water pouring from her eyes as she dug her head into the soft wrappings of familiarity.

"Admitting it is the first step," he consoled, patting her back in fatherly and relieved affection.

But how could she possibly confess her disgusting dreams? The shame of having it forever burned into her psyche was enough to make her want to crawl into a lonely cave and decay away, maybe the next avatar would be better at this than she.

The more she blubbered, the more he realized her changing attitude. For days she hardly ate, drank, or talked. She walked as though in a daze, jumping at nothing but a salutation from anyone. Sweat glazed her forehead constantly in a pale, frail sickness to which he wondered if a healer should have been called.

Of course, it was all fear. After her strangely energetic speech on the radio, it all began to click in the master's mind.

No one scared Korra, but Amon was not just some punk or thug that could be punched into submission. His cunning, and intolerance for everything that made Korra, Korra was the perfect dilution to her stubborn pride. The mask was the breaking point, she hated what she couldn't touch, see, or understand one-hundred percent.

Her miserable attempts at connecting to her spiritual side were a testament to that fact.

Now, however, they could both get some sleep at night, and she could take the foremost rung into recovery.

Maybe she could even make progress with air bending, now that the fear had been identified and fessed up to.

By now he should have known, nothing with the avatar is solved so easily.

"Amon," a familiar, cat-fished face peered in around the door.

Turning slightly, he motioned for the lieutenant to enter his study. The Equalist leader was standing rigidly, his arms spread and gripping the edges of the desk in a steel grip, the gloves stretched tightly across the knuckles.

Believing it to be his intrusion that had set the boss off, the calculating man bowed and began to leave.

"No, stay, lieutenant," came the order.

"Are you sure?" he casually asked. "You seem a little…tense."

Unwrapping his hands, straightening his back, he fully turned to face his right hand man. The lieutenant nodded in respect, and made his way closer. A bundle of parchments were tucked beneath his arm and he set them down upon the already cluttered table.

He began explaining the certain weak points of the city, outlining where the police were going and not going to be and when. Amon nodded distantly, his eyes flicking over the maps but not absorbing their information in full- clearly his mind was somewhere else.

The man with the intimidating half-mask and Kali sticks picked up on this fact and decided to come back later.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he stated out of the blue, rolling up the many papers and tying them together with a bow neatly. "Apparently facing the Avatar has drained you."

At the mention of the girl, Amon set his full stare upon the man, to which he squirmed beneath the intimidating glance- even to his members, the glare of their leader was a sight to behold, if he let you live long enough to appreciate it.

But, to his surprise, Amon let out a moderately relaxed second of chuckling.

"Do not worry about me, lieutenant," he explained shortly, his voice overflowing with authority.

"Then what's the matter?" his closest thing to a friend continued to question, his eyebrows furrowing behind the goggles.

Turning and taking a couple steps about the room, he stopped when he came to the large map of the nations on the wall, he studied it briefly, focusing on the major landmarks of his life.

Keeping the lieutenant on his toes, he swiftly came back to center in a few strides.

"Tonight is the night of the anniversary," he said mysteriously.

"Of what?"

Behind the mask, he smiled, relishing in the memories.

"The invention of a new era."

Of course, the equalist follower assumed that his leader meant that this was the day when the movement was started, or the day of a particular, well known martyr; however, it was neither, for truly this was the remembrance of when blood became the fifth element.


	4. Reverie

The months passed in a blackened haze. The air bender had been so sure she would have recovered by now, but she only descended further into her temper. Late in the night, he would catch a few of her cries for help, a scream or two for mercy to which he readily responded, having to rip her from her comatose of slumber.

"Korra! Korra!" he would yell, shaking her shoulders. "It's not real! Wake up!"

A few more shakes and she would consent to his alien touch, creaking open her eyes, she would give a smirk of apology, but never utter a thanks- she wasn't one to be found so weak.

They would talk, she would promises things she would never keep, like practicing more meditation, avoiding public radio, or anything he deemed to be a "bad influence".

The same morning, she sat slumped on her cushion, her eyes barely able to stay open. A bowl of soup steamed readily in front, but she didn't have the energy to pick up the spoon. Feeling her lids close heavily, she willed them open and straightened up- she _needed_ to stay awake.

Yawning expansively, she stretched her arms out in front and rolled her shoulders.

_You can do this, Korra, _she thought in a weak pep-talk. _Just a few more hours. _

Picturing Tahno's defeated face was making it all worth while, his tears as his precious trophy was yanked away from his cradling arms and given directly to her. Smirking, she relished in the thought.

The playoffs were just in a couple weeks, and she was more ecstatic than anyone in Republic City. If only she could have gotten her mind on track.

"Korra!"

Pulling herself out of her dazed thoughts, she peered up and saw the three children looking intently at her. The more they stared, the more she wondered if she had something on her face.

"What?" she questioned tiredly, rubbing her eye sockets.

"We were wondering if you could take us to the park, today!" Ikki peeped, nodding her head off her neck.

Running a hand through her hair, Korra scratched her scalp thoughtfully.

"I don't know..."

"But you promised!" the little girl cut off, already dragging her mouth into a serious pout.

Being as that lifting a finger was expending more energy than it should of, she resolved her solution.

"Sorry, kids..." she started but was again interrupted by their whines.

"Korra..."

"C'mon!"

"Lame! Lame! Lame!"

She snapped her eyes into a glare, their tiny voices pecking at what little patience she had left.

"Korra! Korra! Korra!"

"...a good source of exercise..."

"...all the cute little birds, and bees, and flowers, and babies, and..."

"Really, guys, I don't think..." her tone struggled to remain a painted growl.

"KorraKorraKorraKorraKorraKorra...!" Meelo screeched as he air-scooted around the room, swishing the soup, spilling it over the edge.

"...built during the first years of Republic City..." Jenora informed pointedly, reading verbatim from a thick book.

"...and streets, and shops, and- Oh! Can we go shopping? I want a dress, and a turtle-dove, and a..." Ikki continued to drone in her obscenely high-pitched voice.

The last straw, Korra forced a surge of energy through her arms and slammed her fist on the low table, shattering the bowl as her knuckles smashed down.

"No!" her voice rang off the now silent walls, her mouth curled into a snarl of unadulterated annoyance, loathing even. "Can't you brats see that I don't want to do that right now?! Go annoy your parents for once!"

Their small faces flinched in a moment of fear, and she recollected the same reaction from her disgusting dreams. A moment of stunned silence passed between the children, and her heart began to melt as she peered deeper into their innocent, wavering eyes.

What had she done?

Releasing the anger from her face, she sat back and whisked her cut-up hand to her chest.

"Kids, I-"

They were already gone.

_You really did it this time..._

Instead of hanging her head in shame, or running to catch up with them and apologize, she just became more angry. Who gave them the right to bug her? All she had wanted was peace and quiet before she returned to her room at night, but no! She had to be the one to entertain Tenzin's kids, practice her air bending, and save the world from a maniac!

As more aggravated thoughts exploded in her racing mind, her skin began to redden with a sensation of rage. Her fingertips sizzled with a spout of fire, but she quenched the urge to burn the entire island down, realizing that destroying the room would help no one, accomplish nothing.

But it had been awfully tempting, the tacky ornaments had always annoyed her, anyway. Instead, she decided to clear her head, get some fresh air and spend some quality time with her best friend.

Laying smack dab in the middle of the courtyard, she mindlessly stroked Naga's belly, squinting up at the sun, absorbing the warmth it radiated. She enjoyed these precious moments of sun and happiness, laziness.

Sooner or later, she would have to return to her room, where a bed laid in wait for her. Squelching the thought of stained covers and sweat, she opened her blue eyes even wider, until it hurt peering so directly into the morning star above her.

It had an amazing effect on the withering girl, it felt like, even though it was farthest from the truth, that she was balanced, tranquil- caught in a listless limbo.

Leaves rustled past in a sudden breeze, but it didn't ruin it for her. What did end up breaking her zone-out were the continued winds that had started to pick up, prickling goose bumps onto her open skin.

Relenting finally, she supposed she could munch on something for lunch. Maybe the kids weren't there.

Dazed, she had been staring at the same spot in the sky for hours, Naga was no longer by her side- her hand was waving in the air.

But, no, she had been so sure that the polar dog was there just seconds ago.

Sitting up in her state of surprise, she noticed the darkness. Had it been the entire day?

"Korra, where have you been?!" a familiar frantic, scratchy voice called from the hills. "Come on, we gotta go! The match is startin' in like…now!"

A certain goofy, green-eyed boy sprinted up the hill, waving his muscled arms as he went in and out of dimmed lighting. Smiling, she remembered that she, indeed, was having the biggest game of her life tonight.

Wiping the smile off the pretty boy would provide a perfect distraction, maybe relieve her enough to get some decent sleep.

"Coming!" she called pleasantly, leaping up with a burst of energy.

Finally, she caught up to Bolin and the two began to set off toward the arena. Getting into the boat that the boy had brought, she took a quick peek at the night horizon once more and noticed something peculiar.

"Hey Bo," she muttered, talking over her shoulder to him as she still held the rope, face up toward the exaggerated moon. "How late is this match anyway?"

When no answer came she repeated:

"Bo?"

Still, not a cricket of a sound echoed back and she stole her stare away, just in time to see a flash of fist come at her.

Dodging, she narrowly avoided her teeth being pounded out.

"What the…?" she began to swear, crouched over, until her sight landed on what was really happening.

A fluttering cowl, red guards attached to a brown military uniform, and of course the bone-colored mask, the slits revealing the only human thing about him.

"Y-you! No, it can't be..." she stammered. "Where's Bolin?! What did you do to him?!"

A evil laugh rung behind the awkwardly stable expression of the porcelain face, but no answer.

She assumed the worst, and stood to face off.

"You won't get away with this!" she screamed, her muscles rigid.

The circle of battle continued, and she threw the second punch of the fight, sending a blast of searing flame. Spreading and voiding the fire with his arms, he jumped over and swiped with his chi blocking fingers at her stomach.

She swatted his hand away just in time and kicked the edge of the boat, hoping to send him flying comically into the water that surrounded them. Instead, he gracefully went with the flow of her force and landed behind her.

A split second before she could turn around, and a devastating blow was dealt to her side, bruising the bones and fracturing the chakra flow. Rolling to a stop on the rocky grass plain she quickly stomped into the ground, getting her footing back as her mind swayed- her body already groaned in pain.

"Getting tired?" came his arrogant, deep growl, his double imaged figure nonchalantly advancing toward her like a ghoul.

Shutting her eyes firmly, she felt the connection to earth and exploited it- stamping a tidal wave of natural stone out to ward off the enemy.

It could not be avoided, and he was blown back.

Or so she thought, for as she looked around for the adversary, he made his presence known as he snagged onto her from behind- his arms serving as a collar, stepping on her heels, his breath hot against her neck.

"Your move, Avatar," he taunted, whispering in her ear.

His confidence escalated quickly as he pulled her into a tighter stranglehold, she could practically hear the heartbeat behind, pumping a silent drum.

Playing dirty, she made a move with her elbow. Unfortunately, he threw her down before she could carry out the naughty strategy, disorienting her further.

"All the power of the Spirits, and you choose that," he chastised from above. "I might have known."

Clenching her jaw in frustration she boiled up her rage in one defiant statement of:

"Shut up!" she yelled, pressing off and flipping her heel up in a kick.

It connected with his chest, and he was sent flying, but his body was much too lucid to be deterred by one good shot. A flurry of dust exploded into the air as gravity shifted and transferred, blinding the two of them- she was up on her feet again.

He was down on one knee, but his head, and eyes, remained fixed on hers, yards away, the disintegrated dirt began to settle.

Instead of his intimidating figure advancing on her, she was the one charging forward.

_Not this time, _she chanted in her head as he stood casually up.

Fists ready to fire, she was just inches from his mask, her face in an unrecognizable glare. But, she was stopped, dead in her tracks. It was if her body had shut down completely just by his sheer will alone.

Calmly, calculating, he sauntered behind her and wrenched her to the ground, pulling her robotic arms down by her sides, his fingers dug into her neck, clutching the upper vertebrae in a tight, painful grip.

"No!" she yelled, her eyes pleading as terror laced her insides- evident in the pooling sweat streaming from her hairline, her clammy skin.

Trembling, writhing in defiance, he plunged his thumb into her head.

She woke up.


	5. Twine

Opened wide, the veins in her eyes pulsated in a struggling daze. Alone in the middle of the small square, the steps to her right, she was curled into a tight ball on the rock features. Her skin and body quivered in fright, a pool of blood and sweat mixed beneath her cheek, staining it.

"Korra!" an angered voice called out. "We need to talk!"

The maddened Tenzin was on the warpath, his violent stomps sounded right behind her, but she didn't have the courage to sit up- but in a panic she slurped up any evidence that she had been bleeding, wiping it with her arm sleeve and shirt.

"Look at me, Korra," came the order.

Bashfully, she turned, but remained sitting, covering up the stain. His brow lifted in confusion when he saw her muddied skin.

"Have you been here all day?"

The sun was easily setting, she must have been out in the yard for hours. Dazed, confused, she nodded just to get him to get on with what he wanted to say, burying her eyes.

"Well, uh," he stammered, forgetting what he wanted to yell at her for.

"You're angry," she choked out, her throat dry as the desert, scorching, even.

Perplexed once again by her strange state, he knelt down next to her.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked softly.

Peering at him, his face so even and smooth, she envied how peaceful he must have slept at night. This envy turned to bitterness, and she was the one to act cross.

"No," she snapped, leaning back on her palms. "Why would you ask that?"

"I'm only…"

"You're not my father, Tenzin. I can look after myself."

Clearly hurt, he shifted back, taken off guard by her sudden ruthlessness. But, he was not one to simply comply with her shifted emotional state, he stood and looked down on her- a power stance.

"Well, I may not be your father, Korra, but I am one," he started, his pale blue eyes froze. "And you had no right to talk to my children in such a manner. Jinora isn't even speaking to me…"

"Well, that sounds like your bad parenting to me, Tenzin," Korra barked, lying back on her arms, sticking out her lip arrogantly.

_This isn't like Korra. _He thought worriedly, his anxiety meter rising into red.

"What's gotten into you?" he shot back.

"I told you, nothing. I'm fine."

"Does this have something to do with those dreams of yours?"

Boiling in her cheeks, she immediately shot up and got right in the air bender's face.

"What gives you the right…?!"

"Korra, calm down…"

"I'm not afraid of anything! How could you think…?"

"I don't, I'm just trying to…"

"You know what?!" she yelled over his consolations. "I don't need Tarrlok, or Lin, or _you_ telling me what I should do! I'm the avatar. I'm the one who has to save this city! Not you or anyone else!"

On that note, she turned and began descending down the steps, stamping as hard as she could.

"Korra! Can't we just talk about this?" he shouted after her.

She shook her head side to side, grinding her teeth in dust as she went.

"Selfish, irresponsible…"

Her ears pricked up at the mutterings that evaded his lips, and she stopped on a dime. Slowly, methodically she began to turn back around, her eyes landing on his orange and yellow clothed form.

"What did you say?" she whispered out, her fists shaking by her hips, shoulders popped up.

He had only seen that look once, and it never meant anything good. A silent question wafted on the air, and no matter how hard he leaned in, he couldn't hear what she had just announced.

From the distance she was at, about twenty-five feet or so, she took his shift as a threat and that was all she needed to set him in his place. All of the elements present, she pounded the ground with her foot, sending an earthquake of escalating proportions toward the old bender.

All her frustrations, feelings, went into the ground and rose in a tidal wave of rock. It took more energy than she had, and her knees began to throb and shake. Light headed, she crouched.

All life had been disheveled, stains of water pooled in unnatural holes in the stone, and streamed from newly crafted hills. The main house had taken some damage, parts of the roof still fell in pieces while intense scratches dug into the front panels.

Taking a certain amount of pride in her work, she set her sights on where her real enemy stood.

The old man remained standing, but just barely. A protective swirl of air in a constant bubble, he swayed wearily from side to side, a few noticeable gashes seeping red tears.

"Don't follow me," she whispered out in a hiss, a murderous glare stricken across her face, blue eyes of fire.

Smirking with satisfaction, she hurried down the hill at a fast sprint, her guilt still stifled down before it could regurgitate. Leaping quickly, she dived into the ocean, not even knowing what she was doing, or where she was going. There wasn't anything in the tank, but she swam on fumes, willing herself to a sanctuary.

The only thing she was certain of was that she had to escape the bed, the room, and the nightmares.

Even if it followed her, she would have to change before it finally choked all of her sanity.

Being as that she had attacked, maimed, one of her closest friends, and ally, it was clear to see that the threads that held her together were beginning to wither away.

The worst part was that Amon didn't have to do a thing to bring her down. All he did was push her over the edge of common sense until she didn't know right from wrong any longer.

"Sir," the Lieutenant knocked on the closed door, hoping he wasn't interrupting the masked man again.

"Come in," the surprisingly strained voice of Amon invited.

Once again, the cat-mustached man was intrigued and slightly disturbed by the tension clear in his leader's vocalism. But, he was not one to question it. If anyone deserved to be stressed, it was Amon. The countless hours he poured into the Revolution, and it still felt like they were getting nowhere, achieving nothing, while the Avatar pranced all over the city.

His nationalism took over him, and he almost tripped as he slowly sauntered in. Fortunately, he caught himself, just in time to see a massive red dot before his eyes. Coughing quickly and strictly standing straight, he adjusted the shoulders of his uniform and grunted in apology.

Simply, Amon had just wished to settle the man, there was hardly a reason for him to act so on edge. Then again, he wasn't one to really judge. Both of them were high strung, and needed a break, or at least a notion of the turning tides.

Precisely, this was what the Equalist leader was working on, and was beginning to see a positive result.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" the Lieutenant asked, his voice quiet and low.

The two faced each other, feet apart, but the silence was making the small room seem all the more cramped.

"Yes," Amon hissed, snake tongued. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Lieutenant."

Perplexed, through the slits he saw the furrowing of his friend's brow.

"Secret? What is it?"

Clasping his hands behind his back, Amon began to pace, wondering how he should go about doing this. Stopping suddenly, the Lieutenant lurched with him, his ears hanging on every sound, twitching his fingers in anticipation. Did Amon have another brilliant scheme up his sleeve?

"You have served me well."

This cleared nothing up, and the goggled man simply tapped his foot on the dark floorboards, pondering impatiently.

"Do you know that, Lieutenant?"

"Of course, sir. I've dedicated my entire life to the cause," he immediately replied, watching silently the movements of Amon. "Is this some kind of test?"

The cowl fluttered as the eyes of Amon set directly on his right hand man. Immediately, his body went numb. The veins went cold, and his heart slowed to a dangerous thump, loud enough to hear it in his head.

The man lurched forward, holding his stomach in pain, eyes shut tight as he tried to sweat out the throbbing of his insides. The wave of nausea was unending, he peered up at the solid stature of Amon. He ripped off his helmet, trying to taste the sweetness of fresh air. Amon watched on, studying the reaction- truly he had given his friend far less credit, he was fighting it well.

His dark green eyes exploded open, searching for an answer as his jet black hair began to stick to his face, streams of perspiration dripping. His mouth opened and closed as if drowning, a silent scream, begging for a reason.

"W-w-what's-s…h-happening to me?" he squeezed out, his limbs turning to rock, heavy and still.

"A test," the wide-eyed Amon stated obscurely.

No, there was something wrong with this, it wasn't just a spar or stealth exam, there was no chi blocking dummy to pick at or route to memorize. The middle aged male soon realized that this was life and death- passing would guarantee a pumping heart, failing- a bed of dirt.

"This…isn't…right," he managed to choke out, his quickly evaporating mind vanishing into nothing.

"It's the only way, Lieutenant," the inhuman leader spoke, his words digging into his skin. "But I can see that you are resisting. Know that eventually it will take hold of you."

A splotch of clarity still clung, and with one last breath he stammered:

"What will?"

Musing it over, Amon raised his arms, the bones in his fingers clicking and churning grotesquely as the wrist twisted, the arms loosening from the sockets. The grip that strangled the Lieutenant senseless finally won, and he lost the war over his nerves.

Succumbing to the gravity, he fell limply.

Amon relaxed, leaning coolly against the edge of his desk. Tired, a shallow breath escaped the mouth opening, he studied his new toy. The man lay still on the ground, maybe it had been too much for him.

"Pity," Amon muttered, edging closer to see if he was truly dead.

No, he still sensed a pulse beneath the skin- a horribly distant and sluggish beat, but one nonetheless. Success, he sucked in a breath and widened his inked eyes to their bending length, coercing.

Immediately, the body lifted and stood. Lowering his lids back to normal, he tested out the range. The man still remained on his feet, stiffly. Amon lifted his fingers into the air and wriggled them, to which the shell responded- walking forward, back, side to side, and finally crouching down.

He felt every vein, muscle, brain impulse, everything that functioned inside, he understood and exploited. Now, he went deeper, feeling out just how much he could extract from the body. In response, the Lieutenant bent over backwards, almost to an inhuman proportion and came immediately back up- no hesitation.

Again and again, he yanked on the strings of his puppet.


	6. Shadows

A shadow in the thick black of night swayed- it leapt from branch to branch. The flickering of the gloom went unnoticed by the oblivious, white-clothed guards. A penumbra in pitch black, he was invisible.

Sneaking swiftly to his usual spot, he crouched lightly on the thickest stem of the old willow tree, leaves blowing softly in the breeze of midnight. Unusual, a dim light illuminated from the small room. Gazing in, he noticed that a different character sat in the place of the main.

Tears dripped slowly, thoughtfully, into the dark, mangled beard. Disgusted with the air bender's weakness, he whisked his head away, but leaned in to listen to the man's whimpering.

"Sprits…Oh, Spirits…" he murmured, sniffling quietly, unbeknown to the rest of his family- he couldn't be seen like this, brokenhearted. "Where is she?"

Gone? How was this possible? The effects had been too potent for the young girl, apparently.

He had to regain control, if left alone, she would recover, and his best footing would be taken out from under him. Watching for a sign, the spot of shadow whisked away again, no impression left. Quickly, he tracked her, noticing the unnatural hills that were not there before, the damage still to be repaired on the old lodge.

He just had to be in range, half a mile, just a few yards. Sprinting through the night, his instinct led him to the edge of the island, looking into his watery reflection. A brief hesitation, unlike him, when he peered in- he was terrifying.

Hardening his icy heart, he plunged into his face, dissolving the white blob.

* * *

She ran.

Ponytails hitting her shoulders and face in a constant reminder of who she was, she sprinted out of the streets, into dark alleyways, an unseen force screaming for her to never stop. Muscles aching and weary, she dug into the deep crevices of her stomach and pulled out what little energy she had left.

The adrenaline of her crimes, shame, coated over her logical half, and her feet thumped clumsily on the rocky ground. It had rained the night before and puddles huddled in the dips of the sidewalks, glimmering with infection while thriving to purify.

Stamping into every last one, the crowded roads became deserted. Only the splashing of disturbed water, and the thumping of her vain heart were heard in the drowning silence.

Easy prey, the yellow eyes of rats beamed from the shadows, purposefully studying the frantic water bender. Good clothes, healthy body, and the sense of being horribly on edge made their glossy, oily teeth sparkle to one another.

Swarms of rodents, tall and skinny, jumped in her way. Skidding awkwardly to a halt, she glared at the intruders blocking her path.

"Move," she spat out, already flicking her eyes past them.

Giving one another mischievous glances, they shook their heads and gurgled out small chuckles. Ember, green, and blue eyes goading her- a slender, but muscular man with black, greasy hair stepped sideways toward her.

"Don't want to play?" he asked darkly, and then winked.

Eager to accept, but knowing her limitations, she shook her head.

"Not today, chumps. Busy," she replied shortly, smirking arrogantly.

Instead of frowning, their gruesome smiles grew.

"Well, seein' as we own this territory," he continued, circling her like a vulture. "You don't really got a choice. Hand over your money, and maybe you'll keep your pretty face."

She shoved her hands into her pockets and pulled out their empty sockets.

"Sorry, boys. I'm broke," she snapped. "Now let me through."

Charging, she managed to get a few feet passed them before a huge thug grabbed her from behind, and pulled her close in a devastating bear hug.

"Who do you think you are?!" one of them spat. "No one gets through without payin' the toll."

Thrashing against the hairy forearms of the massive man, she held her breath in- avoiding the drunken stench wafting off of his clothes.

"Let me go!"

Her yells went unnoticed by the poverty-stricken houses, whose lights went out just as the noise escalated, cowardice.

The king cockroach sauntered over to her, his flat, golden eyes beaming with excitement as a spark of fire escaped from his clenched fist in a blade.

"If you don't have the cash, then I'm afraid you're gonna haft to pay some other way, girly," he barked in her face.

The flame illuminated right in her face, and made contact- she sucked in a scream. Frightened pores and nerves, she waited for the hot searing of her flesh, and how Tenzin would have to identify her mangled body to Lin the next day.

Just as she was cursing her rotten luck and life, she was dropped heavily to the damp asphalt. Groaning as her arm broke her fall, her wide, ocean-blue eyes searched for an answer. Screams came from behind her, the pained cries of broken men, wounded animals.

"Please…don't!" they squealed, howls of fear. "I'll give you everything! Anything!"

But their moans flattened into eerie silence and were followed by their bodies dropping behind her in loud pangs of breaking bones and ripping skin. A head rush, she remained down, catching her breath- it fogged out in clouds of anxiety before her.

Methodical footsteps came from everywhere, before she was willing to face the same fate, she bolted. Unable to see well, her sight wavering and swaying into blotches of black color and swirls of nausea, she did not make it very far before collapsing again.

Still the sound of shuffling rang all around her like the toiling of hellish bells.

"Get away!" she yelled into the darkness, swatting her arm while she tried to crawl.

Making it merely inches away, fingers snatched onto her. But instead of beating her into a pulp, the soft, silk of gloves pressed her down, gently.

"You're safe," a gravelly but soothing voice announced from beyond her obscure line of sight.

On edge, she still squirmed a little on the cold ground, her nails digging into the makeshift rock.

"Who are you?" she questioned, her voice quivering, lips split and bleeding.

A brief pause of unknown quiet passed by, and her apprehension simply increased while she remained obnoxiously blind.

"A friend," he said mysteriously. "You have no need to fear me. I only wished to help."

Proud and stubborn like he knew her to be, her chest puffed out.

"I don't need any help," she growled, and to prove it, she tried to sit up, before falling to her back once more.

"I can see that," he commented dryly.

Snorting, she huffed a stray hair out of her face.

"Look, I had them right where I wanted them," she defended petulantly. "Everything was under control before you came along."

"Really?" a pressure poked her cheek, which incited a burden of stinging pain.

"Hey! What the hell-?!"

"The gangs on this block are known for their defacing," he reported smugly, making her blind pupils roll. "You're lucky I came when I did, or you'd most likely be dead, Avatar."

At the mention of her title, a solid bump rose in her throat before she was able to gulp it back down.

"How do you know…?" she asked, trailing off.

A throaty chuckle rumbled beside her.

"Your face is plastered in every newspaper," he explained, and the distrust ebbing away. "Who doesn't recognize you?"

Still resigned to keep the conversation from continuing, she proceeded to try and sit up once more. A solid, but wary hand pressed into her chest, but she waved it off.

"I'm fine, really," she grumbled.

He let go, but still decided to hold her elbow as she gathered her strength to stand. As she swaggered to a poor, wobbly stance, she did not utter one thanks, but simply grunted. At this time, she was kicking herself for not getting Naga when she had the chance.

After a couple minutes, the spin of gray blotches that had restricted her sight intensified into a dizzying tilt-a-whirl of color, a discordant kaleidoscope of vomit green and bruised yellow.

Without intention, her knees shook and she slipped gauchely. Luckily, the helpful man was there to catch her, and sling her arms over his shoulders. He mentioned something, but the nausea was too much for her to hear him.

Her feet dragged as he hauled them both over to the side of the road, and she prayed there was a bench for her to rest on, but with every step, the sickness progressed into awful proportions of queasiness. She asked for them to stop, deaf to the sound of her own voice and his muffled response.

The vibrant shades of disease that danced across her sight began to spoil into black, and it was only a matter of time before she swooned or gagged…or both. Again and again she begged for them to pause, she needed to breathe.

The bitter industry in the air only heightened the migraine pumping through her skull, the acid boiling in her stomach, nothing was clean- it was all foul. Rotten, she decided to take it into her own hands, and dug her heels into the slippery pavement- an anchor.

He was stronger than her clammy, weak body, and he simply continued, undeterred. If she had been in the right mind, she would have punched him, but the only reaction from her was a pathetic flop and flail of her arms.

Finally, after what seemed like miles upon miles of seasick movement, it came to an awkward standstill. The oxygen was different, somehow, but she didn't know why. Murky, swampy, it was heavy and every lung-full was akin to drowning.

The corroding midnight scorching through the contagion in her eyes was beginning to turn the tides, it seeped into ink, into pitch black, and it became apparent that the illness that had come on was much more than a simple fall from the arms of a thug.

Deafness turned into an acute pitch of hearing, and she was able to recognize her own screaming. It was so unbearably loud, like the wail of a banshee, and she shut up immediately, the noise just worsening her condition.

"Finally…" a voice from beyond the black welcomed- it wasn't the same man.

The vocalism was much softer, higher, and dampened. Obviously, there was something block his mouth, he was spitting into a mask, or covering his face with a cloth.

But he was also young, probably a few years younger than her. Although her other senses had been blocked, her mind remained sharp enough to churn out possible enemies. Two and two clicked, and immediately she thought

_Equalists. _


	7. Martyr

"What…want…to…?"

"...her…down…Amon."

"Should we…for…"

"…it matter?"

"Look…she's…forehead..."

A quick pause, she sucked in a painful breath.

"…just make sure...morning."

"Yes, sir."

Blotches of sound graced her ears as she strained to understand what was trespassing above her. The man that had supposedly saved her had also brought her into the belly of the beast. Kidnapped somewhere, he had dragged her sickly body.

After he handed her over, they took her quickly further into whatever dungeon they festered in, and thrown her into a room, or a box, and she had been laying flat on her back ever since. The shards of corrupted wood dug into her flesh, and she could never find a comfortable position without pokes and prods.

Conversations transpired above, footsteps ricocheted like earthquakes, and she had managed to make out Amon's name several times. Too clear, the Equalists had finally gotten her.

Shaken by fear and dread, her worst nightmare was coming to fruition. But instead of restricting to the confines of her bedroom, it continued. It was as if it was all meant to be, she had the signs, and still played right into their hands- the epilogue of her psyche.

Eyes tightening by the second, stifling the embarrassment of her failure as an avatar, friend, and daughter- the shame of what she had done, and of her weakness stung like spiked whips against her stubborn heart, more painful than the nausea that had not subsided.

At the thought of Tenzin bleeding, she flinched.

It had been hours, and at first she pounded her splitting knuckles against the low ceiling of the wooden cage she was in- splinters plunged their way into her open wounds, making her entire hand throb. She cried out for help, and begged to be set free, claustrophobia tightening her windpipes, she stopped, resigning to her deserved fate.

The response was laughter, anger, pity from above, the people walking by and hearing her desperation, but did nothing to help.

She started to hate them.

The vermin that they were, an innocent girl who only tried to appease everyone, to be the best she could be, and they spat back in her face, robbed her dignity, stole her freedom.

Who had this much hate for the world?

* * *

"Amon!" a crony called just outside his door.

Butterflies rose and fell in the man's stomach as he shifted his gaze from the lieutenant to the pounding at the entrance. Would they be able to tell?

Testing how far he could push it, he took a long breath in and stretched the veins in the whites of his eyes.

"What is it, corporal?" the puppet asked- his voice harsh, rougher than it usually was.

He would have to work on that.

Taking it as an invitation, the boy stepped sheepishly in. Embarrassed he had called so loudly, he hadn't expected the leader to actually be in his study. Tip-toeing cautiously as to not anger the one blessed by the Spirits, his eyes remained downcast in awed reverence.

An annoying pause followed as the lad mustered the little courage he had.

"Spit it out," the shell remarked as Amon guided the muscles.

The young Equalist flinched ever so slightly, but snapped his spine into bravery and looked the Lieutenant straight on. Words played on his lips, but were lost as he cocked his brow.

"Sir, if I may…?"

The mustached man glared. The boy receded his thoughts and decided it was just a play of the dim light. No man's eyes could be that hollow, was he sick? At the thought he shook his head, his idols were probably impatient for the important news that he was to deliver.

"Amon," he started again, saluting. "We have the Avatar."

The masked man was taken aback. How was this possible? Standing swiftly, he eyed the small boy. His red goggled gas-mask was obviously much too large for his little frame, it kept slipping to the sides of his head, only to be pushed up quickly into place by the strangely large, thin hands.

Those were the fingers of a natural chi-blocker, and Amon understood why they had allowed the child permission into the movement. Nodding, he stood in front of the youngster and kneeled down to his level. He always did have a soft spot for children.

"Excellent news," he commended, and noted the sparkle of the boy's eyes beneath the vermillion spectacles. "What's your name, son?"

He sensed his tight face tendons, and assumed the lad was smiling, beaming beneath.

"Kuzon," he replied, his voice light and airy- he must have been fifteen at best.

The terrifying leader placed a strong hand on the shoulder of Kuzon, and squeezed warmly. The Lieutenant stiffened, and Amon turned his head to strengthen the grip. Apparently, his puppet felt something for the child, for his struggle for freedom intensified.

Easily, it was gagged back down to dummy.

Nonetheless, he could not have his most treasured soldier resisting.

"Kuzon," the Equalist leader announced. "In celebration of this accomplishment, I believe you deserve an award."

Again, the spirit of the Lieutenant surged, and he took a step forward, free of Amon's grasp. Quickly, the masked man stood, and pretended to stretch his hand, rubbing them carefully as his wrists controlled the bend of blood.

Beaten down, Amon smiled underneath the mask.

"Close the door, if you will, Kuzon. I don't want any interruptions during the ceremony."

Blind with excitement, the boy rushed to slam and lock the door shut, unaware that Amon's twine was beginning to drill into his very bones.


	8. Blood

Dehydrated and sore from a plethora of different aches, mainly her grumbling stomach, she waited for hours upon days for anything. Cramped in the tiny coffin, she was beginning to wonder if they had forgotten her, or buried her alive. Thankfully, no maggots or dirt seeped in through the cracks.

If there was any bright side, it was in the relief of being able to obtain a few hours of sleep. While in the cage, she had listlessly slumbered, only to awaken startled, by the thumping of shuffling feet ringing above her, beyond her vision.

In the dark, she had all the time to ponder, muse about how she got in her situation. But, she did not pay it one thought. It would only lead to her sobbing about her losses, old and new.

The weakness of her own preservation caught her by a sickening surprise. When did she ever give up? This wasn't her. What was happening to the Korra she thought she was, that all of her family and friends knew her to be?

_So tired…_she whined, and it was positively true.

Even if they let her out and pointed her in the direction of freedom, she wasn't sure she could make it three steps without collapsing. Maybe she had caught some awful disease that would eventually claim her. Maybe the dreams were connected to it, and all she needed was a dose of medication to return to normalcy.

But, in this horrid place, she knew that if it was a sickness, she would easily die here.

She prayed to the Spirits that it would snatch her in sleep.

"Avatar."

Clear as Armageddon, a grotesquely slick voice pierced through the layer that separated them. Fear bubbled in a new surge, and even all the morbid thoughts in the world couldn't keep her apathetic in his presence.

Her breath hitched in panic, but she lowered it, sucked in gulps, tried to slow the drumming of her wild heart.

_Don't show fear, don't show fear…_

Longing, she couldn't believe it when a crack of light opened. The lid was lifting, the shining of a makeshift beam glittered like an oasis. Mindlessly, she raised a hand to grab it, tug it back. A toddler struggling to stroke a favored toy, he smirked devilishly at her condition.

All of the sparkling was destroyed by the hollowness in his eyes. Tainted steel, it snuffed all life around it like an infection. Her first instinct was to curl up and block out his stare, but she astonished him, instead.

Fast as any animal he ever encountered, she leapt hurriedly from the metal coated box they had entrapped her in. Although her body screamed in agony, too much movement much too fast, she ignored it and fisted a flame from her bloody knuckles.

Off balance and tired as he knew she was, he managed to dodge but was blown away by another massive bend of fire that she unleashed madly. His cockroaches swarmed after they saw him fall, and she was quickly knocked back down, a circle of gas-masked chi-blockers hitting any and every muscle they saw fit.

They finally had her in control on the cool ground, but she did manage to give a few of them burn marks.

Brushing himself off, Amon casually strode up to the defeated girl as he picked at a few cuts in his uniform, he frowned.

"Quite the show, Avatar," he applauded satirically. "But, really, did you think you would escape that easily?"

Snarling, she lunged. If his followers hadn't been holding her, she would have ripped right through his throat. Still, they all grunted by the massive force she carried with her. Even after two days within an impenetrable cage and a flurry of chi-blocks, she still fought with the tenacity of a powerful warrior.

This only enhanced the plan in action, and he bit down on his scabbed lips in anticipation.

"I swear to the Spirits if you don't let me go…" she snapped, seeps of tangled hair covering her vicious eyes.

He ignored her petty threats, and simply motioned for his fanatics to stand aside. Immediately, they crawled back into the shadows like the roaches they were. Almost as fast, she lurched forward, springing from her position.

Her wobbly knee came forward, but he deftly pushed her aside in mid air- her muscles numb from the first round. Miscalculated, she underestimated her weakness, and his brute strength- it was well hidden by his tall, lean figure. His hands dug into her shoulders as he plucked certain nerves with his fingers, clotting any chi flow.

She cried out not in pain, but frustration. Using an emotional advantage, he took that opportunity to snap his nails into her abdomen, blocking another leak of bending.

Oxygen escaped her with the last blow, and she dropped at his feet.

This was where she belonged, he noted, at his mercy, kissing the ground he walked on like the servant she was.

Or would become.

Again, with the swirl of schemes floating deliciously in his mind, he tugged with his canines another patch of loose skin and pulled, ripping it away violently. Too aggressive, he felt a droplet of blood drip onto his chin behind the mask. A small stream, it became a potent stench when mixed with the sweat coating his face.

His father always adored the scent of blood, his son was no different.

Getting over his lust for bodily fluids, he took a glance at the weakened bender before him. Limp as a doll, he crouched to her level. Pushing away hairs that stuck to her mouth, he wiped her skin clear as her undaunted eyes followed his every move.

Awkwardly quiet, he did not hiss any threats into her ear, or make any kind of forceful declaration but simply stared through her. Paralyzed in more ways than one, she saw the churning of dastardly cogs in his murky pupils.

If she could just move, bend, do something, she knew that she would win. Her confidence was her strength, and greatest folly. He knew it absolutely destroyed her being so helpless when fresh meat hung just beyond her reach.

Goading the girl any further would only overdo the effect.

Finally, he creaked upward to a stance, and signaled for a few men to his side. A small boy and his trusted lieutenant sauntered strangely over. Korra never saw such soulless people.

They shuffled like the undead, made no sounds of recognition or understanding; however, she immediately sensed the rage within them. Her eyes pleaded to the obvious boy, his over-sized helmet betrayed his age- maybe he had a conscience.

When he spotted her massive, teal eyes looking helpless, she thought he would relax. Unfortunately, he did just the opposite- he stiffened to a grotesque level – far too straight for one so young. He peered down, and she saw empty, vindictive eyes.

Entranced by his glare, she did not catch Amon's mumbling.

"Take her to the Eastern Wing," he growled to the kali-stick-wielding man. "Lock her in."

Nodding mindlessly, he immediately picked the girl up, dragging her by the torso like a cadaver. The boy hauled her legs, but Korra shifted to get one last peek of Amon, who calmly looked on. When their eyes met, she curled a lip, or at least tried to.

The smile entrenched in his mask for once reflected the man beneath, he couldn't stop grinning.

* * *

"Let me out!" she yelled against the steel door, banging her bruised, beaten hands on its frame. "You can't keep me in here forever, coward!"

Panting in the larger but ultimately more stifling room, she had been there for hours.

A small plate of food awaited her along with other sanitary necessities when the two threw her in, and she immediately took full advantage. A cramped bed, if you could call it that, stood patiently in the corner, tempting her to curl up in its rough sheets and slumber.

It may not have been a palace, but it beat being a corpse in a choking coffin. She knew that the Equalist leader would be there at any given moment, that he would show up when she least expected it, like he always did.

Wrenching her eyes open was becoming especially hard as the night hours ticked by.

She gave up on the cries for help, her windpipes protesting in dehydrated pain after the first ten minutes. So, she resigned to sitting in the middle of the steel room, trying to find her center and will her body to stay alert. Closing her eyes, she pulled in her hands to her chest and began meditating.

"C'mon, Korra," she murmured. "You can do this, just a few more hours. Then, you'll be free, and be back in the pro-bending ring by tomorrow, and Tenzin will be fine. You'll be forgiven and welcomed back with open arms."

Even she knew that it would never happen, but if it gave her the strength to keep pushing her guilt down and stay conscious, she would do whatever she had to.

"Is that so?"

Startled by the sudden sound, she flinched and snapped her eyes open to their full size. Just like a nightmare, his mask sat in wait just before her with its still, ghastly eyes accompanied by the stain of a red dot, all encompassed by the fake but monstrous facade. It was too much, too fast, and she felt her vision haze in a fragile swoon.

She saw him in triple, millions of Amons taunting her like demons.

_Don't you even think about…!_ She screamed in her head.

But her body would not comply. It had much too little sleep to defend against a shock like this. Failing, she slumped backward, her face a new level of calm as she took a freefall into unconsciousness. Her head hit the metal ground hard, and her bones fell feebly behind.

A crunch seemed to break her fall, and Amon crept forward from his seated position right before her. Sneaking in at the perfect moment, he had managed to slip in while she attempted a pathetic meditation.

Before she came to, for he imagined she would wake in the next couple of minutes, her stubborn pride would certainly not allow her comatose, he knelt right next to her, getting a good spot. Raising his bony fingers right above her stomach, he reached in with a bend, feeling out her body.

A strong, athletic heart with oversized muscles to match. He plucked at a few brain impulses, felt each artery collapse and open in their usual rhythm. His blackened eyes rolled to the back of his skull as he roamed her.

More exhilarating than any pleasure he could think of, he listlessly popped every cartilage in his hand as he bent. It felt so magnificent to swim inside of her, he had never experienced such power.

A rush of the most addicting drug, he realized he must have her.

The original plan was only to drive her right into his hands, and then he would simply keep her out of mind and sight, controlling her untamed spirit while he finished off the rest of the city. He thought he had prepared adequately, reigning in his taste for control in his right hand man and even a boy close to her age.

They had nothing; they were nothing, compared to her. Aching, throbbing, pumping blood that swirled in magnificent pools all through her- he could almost see the red, the oozing burgundy. He almost forgot himself inside.

If anyone had been anywhere near the prison, they would have heard his chokes of ecstasy echoing loudly through the hall. The two puppets ruthlessly guarded the door, kept everyone out of the area as he had instructed them.

So potent was the bend, the bended, he felt the escalation of his power in the boy and lieutenant. They all coalesced when he went into her, and everything amplified.

The dummies outside stood still, not breathing, moving, or even blinking- the strength crushing their wills into dust which was then thrown into flames, they had not an inkling.

Plunging deeper, he felt the elements of the Earth circling one another harmoniously. He intruded on their balance, and they stopped. Sitting still now, he reached for one of them. He supposed it was water, for it flowed and soothed him as he allowed its presence to fill him.

He wanted it for himself, and he tugged on it, thief. Sensing danger, the fickle element shocked him out of Korra, and he was sent reeling from her body. He had not even done what he wanted to, had not carried out his mission.

This was so unlike him. But, the sensation still lingered, its handprint was permanently etched into his DNA, and it screamed for Korra. He almost went in again, unable to resist the pull of her blood tide. He stopped himself, and sat back on his sore legs- he must had been inside for at least an hour.

The pain in his knuckles came next, and he cradled them together into his stomach, rocking on his feet. It was the longest bend he had ever carried out.

Nonetheless, she was still completely asleep, not even noticing the disease of Amon inside her. Flinches of fear played on her face, and he realized that his powers had also escalated her dream state. The nightmare must have been unbearable.

A flicker of empathy surged through him, and he left, deciding that she had been through enough for the night.

His hands shook as he reached for the knob, barely able to squeeze it. He took a look back at the perplexing young bender, and his body hungered to enter the bloodstream again. He resisted, however, and rushed out the door the second he had an inch of self control.

He would need to rethink his strategy.


End file.
